Rattled
by smacky30
Summary: What I think should happen sometime soon based solely on the previews for 7x23. No spoilers involved. Sara asks Grissom about being rattled.


Rattled

A/N: I am unspoiled so this came out of the preview for this week's episode. Somewhere there is a very evil plot bunny who has been playing thumper with my brain for a week. Totally un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Grissom was floating on the cusp of sleep when a disembodied voice drifted out of the darkness. "Does she rattle you?"

For a moment, just a moment, Grissom debated feigning sleep. He had been waiting for a question like this for days; hoping she would hurry so he could get it over with and wishing she would never give it voice.

Sara's voice once again reached his ears. "I know you aren't asleep."

With a sigh, he responded quietly, "Why do you ask?" He pinned his hopes on confusing the issue but he should have known better.

"Catherine said she is the only woman that ever rattled you. I just wondered if she still does."

Knowing that he couldn't avoid giving an answer and unable to merely say what Sara would want to hear, Grissom replied, "I don't know how to answer that."

He felt her back stiffen against his chest and, when she would have pulled away from him, drew her closer. For a split second Sara allowed him to hold her before she shrugged off the arm around her waist and stood up. She made it to the door before he said her name. The confusion in his voice made her pause for a moment. But she knew that if she spoke he would realize how hurt she truly was so she shook her head and continued into the other room.

Grissom's eyes slid closed and he heaved out a sigh. He wasn't good at this sort of thing and she knew it. How could he begin to explain Heather to her? Slowly, like a man going to the gallows, he climbed out of bed and headed out to find Sara.

He stood just inside the living room and watched her through the French doors that led to the deck. She was sitting in her favorite lounge chair, scratching Bruno's head, and wiping away the tears that trickled down her cheeks while both woman and dog stared off toward the horizon. When Grissom opened the door only the dog turned his head, pinning him with a baleful stare.

"Sara," he said, his voice breaking slightly. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "Sara? Honey, what's wrong?"

With a shake of her head, she said, "Go back to bed, Grissom."

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the chair beside her and settled on the edge. Sara steadfastly refused to look at him. He took a moment to study her profile; the proud tilt of her chin, the graceful arch of her brow, the sweep of her eyelashes and the perfect line of her nose – everything about her captivated him.

"Sara, I need to explain." He reached out and ran a finger over the softness of her cheek.

"I thought you didn't know how." Sara didn't even attempt to disguise the peevishness in her voice.

Turning, he stretched out in the chair and trained his eyes on the branches of the tree in the back yard. He watched quietly as the leaves made patterns against the sky. "I know the answer, Sara. I just don't know how to explain it to you."

"Just tell me the truth. That's all I've ever wanted from you."

Nodding, even though she couldn't see it, Grissom drew in a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, he began, "I don't know if I would say that Heather rattles me." He felt more than saw the grimace that crossed Sara's face when he said the name. "She intrigued me for a while."

"Intrigued you how?"

Grissom's mouth opened and closed several times as he struggled to form the words to answer the question. Finally, he swallowed hard and said, "In a lot of ways."

Sara crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. "Okay. Care to elaborate?"

"I didn't sleep with her," Grissom snapped out.

Sara slowly turned to face him, her eyes dark with pain, and said, "I didn't ask that. Sex is not the issue here, Gris." She turned away to face out over the yard again, not letting him seduce her into forgetfulness with his eyes.

As if sensing the trouble between the two people, Bruno stood and walked over to a corner of the deck and curled up. He rested his head on his paws, eyeing them warily.

Grissom's mind was racing. He knew the answers. He knew what Sara wanted to hear, what she deserved to hear. But he hadn't uttered those words to a woman, other than his mother, in almost thirty years. He hadn't felt anything even close to that for another woman in that amount of time. Catherine had been right when she guessed that he had been burned. But that wasn't Sara's fault and she didn't need to be punished for it any longer.

Careful not to say Heather's name, Grissom began, "I met her during a case and I was fascinated. It was as if…she…she knew things…about me that I had never told anybody."

Sara pressed her lips together, holding back the words she wanted to fling at him.

Realizing that she wasn't going to show any mercy, Grissom let his head fall back against the cushion. Eyes slightly unfocused, he thought back to the time with Heather. "She was an enigma," he said, ignoring the snort of laughter from the woman beside him. "I was fascinated by her. I thought that she offered me something no one else ever could."

When he paused, Sara spoke quietly, "And that is?"

Grissom reached out and placed a big, warm hand on her shoulder, "Look at me, Sara. Please."

She turned her head and met his gaze, surprised at the fear she saw there. "You keep using the present tense. Believe me when I tell you that whatever I felt for her is long over. It was over before it started."

"Okay," she whispered.

Grissom gave a little nod and continued is a voice so low Sara had to strain to hear him. "I had asked you to stay here. And I had proceeded to mess everything up. You were always mad or hurt. I felt that…um…that everything I did was wrong."

Sara opened her mouth to tell him that wasn't true but he shook his head and placed a finger over her lips. "No. Not yet. You wanted to know and I need to tell you." At her nod, he said, "Heather offered me a chance to be with someone who didn't want anything from me. She was in no position to judge me. She didn't need anything. She wasn't looking for any commitment. And that seemed like the perfect answer."

With a crooked grin, Sara acknowledged the truth in what he was saying. "So what happened?"

Grissom gave a sad smile and said, "She wanted more than I ever thought possible." Sara quirked an eyebrow in a silent question and Grissom answered, "She wanted my integrity and when I wouldn't compromise she was no longer interested."

For a long moment the two were silent, each lost in thoughts of the past and all the time wasted. Finally, Sara spoke. "Okay."

Puzzled, Grissom studied her profile, "Okay?"

Shrugging, she stood and said, "I asked. You answered. Okay." She headed toward the doors, patting her leg so that the dog would follow her.

Grissom stood and watched her unable to believe what he was hearing. "Wait," he said. "You can't just walk off again."

Confusion clouded Sara's face as she turned to face him. "What are you talking about? What else is there to discuss?"

Crossing the deck to stand in front of her, he clasped both her hands with his. "I need to tell you something else."

Not sure she was going to like what he had to say, Sara nodded.

"Ummmm…Heather is…she's not the only woman who ever rattled me." His eyes were searching hers, telling her the secrets he was so desperately trying to let out.

A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth and she questioned quietly, "She's not? Then who else?"

Squeezing her hands, taking a step closer, he said simply, "You."

Tears trembled in her eyes and she could feel her heart skip a beat. She knew what she wanted to hear, had been longing to hear. But Grissom wasn't that man. He was solid and strong and loving and a total mystery. But he wasn't the man who put his feelings into words.

With a voice rough with her unshed tears, she murmured, "Me?"

Never taking his eyes from hers, Grissom said, "You, Sara. You rattle me. At Berkeley, in San Francisco, here – you rattle me. You are the only woman to ever make me believe in forever. You are the only woman to make me want to be a better man."

When the teardrops slid over her lower lashes and trailed down her cheeks Grissom bent and kissed them away. Pulling back, he said, "You are the only woman for me, the only one I want. And…I love you."

Any reply was lost in their kiss.


End file.
